Current Jams VI

  1. “Flesh Without Blood” – Grimes. I’ve really been digging Grimes lately, and this latest album is refreshing in that, while still holding true to her experimental, electronic sound, it’s a bit more of a standard-pop album, with foot-tapping-inducing beats and audible lyrics (that have substance). I love the ferocity of this song and her clear, bright vocals.
  2. “Lovetrap” – Soko ft. Ariel Pink. I love Ariel Pink and I recently fell in love with Soko, so the two of them together is like a perfect vanilla-chocolate swirl. I’d also really recommend watching the video: it’s just Soko pretending to be Ariel Pink and she does an A+ job. This song’s lyrics are a bit fantastical but ultimately adorable, but most of all, the blending of Soko and Ariel’s vocals is seamless and beautiful.
  3. “There You Go” – Johnny Cash. Because who doesn’t love the Man in Black. I heard this song on an episode of Master of None and thought, I need that. A classic country heartbreak song. Enough said.
  4. “My Iron Lung” – Radiohead. I hope this isn’t a repeat. I’ve just been listening to Radiohead a lot lately. They’ve been paralleling my moods quite well. The song is perfect. This album is perfect. Thom Yorke is perfect. The sudden jolt of angry guitar in this song is not unwelcome, as the buildup of angst in both music and vocals gives a fair warning. A classic jam.
  5. “Ride A White Horse” – Goldfrapp. Goldfrapp’s music is a lot like sex. Or, what I imagine good sex is like. This song reminds me of driving home stoned at night and thinking everyone behind me is a cop. It also reminds me of doing cocaine. It also reminds me of oral sex. Take your pick. It’s what I wish clubs would play, and something you should listen to while you’re having sex, just to humor me. Thanks.
  6. “Chloe in the Afternoon” – St. Vincent. Is this a repeat? If it is, my apologies, but I’ve been listening to this a lot. Another sex song. More like dominatrix-BDSM-song, but still. It’s hot and breathy and skillfully crafted and I would totally be Annie Clark’s floor and let her whip me. Whoops, I said too much.
  7. “Leave A Trace” – CHVRCHES. This band is hit or miss for me. Sometimes this chick’s voice grates on me, but I like this song quite a bit. Again, there’s some ferocity behind it and it has some excellent electronica influences going on.

Listen to some of these, please.



Dream, Analyzed.

I had a dream that Regan from The Exorcist and I were somehow in the same place, interacting. She had attempted to kill her mother and was drenched in blood, holding a knife, while telling me about this portal in the bathroom that leads to an alternate universe. I think that’s what was happening. It might not have been in that order. Anyway, in the dream, I wanted to write a screenplay about this portal, so I went into the bathroom to see it. If you pressed against the wall, it sort of opened up in a very mechanical way, but I was too afraid to go inside, although somehow I caught a glimpse of what was in there. In the bathtub, a pool of watered down blood swirled into the drain and was gone but something written in blood remained. This frightened me, but I still wanted to write a screenplay about this. Regan appeared again, completely covered in a white sheet, still holding the knife, talking about her apparently failed matricide.

When I woke up I really needed to pee but I was afraid, in my half-unconscious state, to go to the bathroom.

As much as I love dream interpretation, this is an easy one:

1: I saw a DVD for The Exorcist at Big Lots last night.

2: I think about killing my own mother. Less than I did even a month ago, but I’m sure it’s still there in my subconscious.

3: I’m going to get my period soon. Makes perfect sense to dream of blood.

4: The image of a woman being wrapped in a sheet is an image that Rene Magritte painted frequently, and as I am a big fan, that image seeped out of my file cabinet and into my dream.

5: I’ve dreamed about weird, boxy spaces and other dimensions since I was a child and it’s never been pleasant. Can’t explain that one, but it’s a recurring thing.

Alright, enough stalling. Time to do some actual work.


Stolen Post

I feel like I’ve been away for a little while. So here’s something before I go off to bed. Stolen from 

1.  What type of popular candy do you not like to get?

I think “popular candy” is too vague of a term. Popular by whose standards? I love candy, though. Well, at least, when I’m in the mood for something sweet. I’ll eat nearly anything. But I really, really dislike Snickers. That’s a pretty popular one. Also Twizzlers. Why are those things even still made?

2.  What do you feel is the most enjoyable way to spend $500?

If I had that handed to me right now I’d buy my books for next semester, get a new pair of winter boots, and finish Christmas shopping.

3.  Where do you eat breakfast?

On days I have class, in my room, otherwise I will never begin getting ready for the day. On days I don’t have class, downstairs in front of the TV which means being very unproductive.

4.  Would you rather ride one of the worlds longest zip lines or bungee jump one of the highest in the world?  This will come with a 5-day all expense vacation.

I’m terrified of both of those but the zip line is a little less scary and more interesting to me. 5 day vacation to where?? Can it be somewhere in Europe? Or New Zealand?

Bonus question:  What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up?

This past week I was grateful to spend a lovely day with my best friend. We took a res trip together and did a little Christmas shopping, went to dinner, drank hot chocolate and watched shitty Hallmark Christmas movies together. I feel like I haven’t spent a day with her in a long time. Coming up…I’m grateful that this week my professor who teaches my 9am class is out of the country so that means an extra hour of sleep.

– Zara

Tuesday at Work, Play-by-Play.

5:37 pm. Pull into the employee parking lot and light up a cigarette, but I only smoke half of it. I smoked too many in the hours prior. Check Instagram. Not enough people liked my latest post. Bastards.

5:53 pm. Walk into work, past the man in the big coat eternally ringing the bell back and forth in front of the cherry-red kettle. I’m glad he’s at the other entrance. The last time I passed one directly, coming in from a smoke break, the dude told me to have a good night and then said something else that I could not make out. I stride through the lingerie, a sea of beige and seashell pink. Name brand bras. Who cares. I punch in, sit down next to Dorothy. I like Dorothy. She works full-time as a lunch lady in her grandchildren’s high school and she’s the most level-headed employee at my store.

6:00 pm. Sarah, one of the managers, gives a brief overview of yesterday’s and today’s stats and whatnot before leaving to go talk to the one of the guys who’s working on the roof of the building. Whoop-de-doo. I put my coat in the designated coat room, right next to the men’s restrooms. The interior smells like cheap perfume and BO. Then I bolt to the ladies’ restroom because I’ve had to pee for about 40 minutes. Why did I wear tights.

6:07 pm. Go down to denim, oh, excuse me, contemporary. Jacinta greets me in her usual dry yet chipper manner. The place is a fucking mess. Tables trashed, sale racks torn apart like we cater to hungry lions, not upper-middle class women. The rolling rod and the back register is full of clothing but she tells me the dressing rooms are cleaned out. Thank god. Except after she leaves, I discover those are trashed too.

7:27 pm. I finally finish clearing out the dressing room and somewhat organizing the rolling rod by brand. I put all the pants away. On sale? It’s not marked, I don’t care. While I’m there I straighten up the tables of jeans. I contemplate putting more clothing away before recovering, or doing the reverse. I decide on the reverse. Between all this I make some sales, a couple large ones too, but that doesn’t matter much.

I tackle the sale rack on the center pad first. Not much on the floor, thankfully, but a lot of stuff half-off the hanger because we have shit clothes and shit hangers. It doesn’t take me long. I move on to the Free People sale racks. God, what a mess. Their clothes are even worse when it comes to falling off hangers. I put it back on, it falls right back off, I give up, desiring to lie down and die in the dressing room. As that song “it’s the most wonderful time of the year” plays I imagine stabbing customers to death, laughing as gore soaks my clothes. I have to get down on my hands and knees to retrieve the abundance of abandoned shirts beneath the racks of clothing. This is it. Retail has sucked away my pride.

8:40 pm. It’s just me and the new girl, Taliba. She doesn’t even speak – she whispers – but she’s nice so I let it slide as I ask “What?” over and over. I close the two registers in the Ralph Lauren section because of course she’s never closed a register before, this is her second shift, and no one has trained her. I don’t get paid to train people, but here I am. I tell her I’ll be back around quarter to ten to help her close her two registers.

9:45 pm. I close both my registers in less than five minutes. I’ve mastered this. Sarah gives the call out that we close in fifteen minutes. I go to Taliba and instruct her. She takes all the pennies from the back register out and lays them on the counter, counting them in groups. Fuck, I wanna leave, dude. I count the rest of the coins and the bills. Bam. Done. Boom. I let her do the front register on her own, but I have to remind her to count the rolls of coins too. She doesn’t even know what we do with the envelopes. Poor thing. I wanna leave.

10:03 pm. Coat on, bag in one hand, envelopes in the other, I bring the green packets to Sarah and clock out. I text B that I’m leaving. I just want a beer.

10:25 pm. Sitting in the parking lot of Applebees. I wanted to go to Fairfield’s because all I really want is a beer but they closed at ten. There’s been an invisible hair stuck in my eye for an hour. The cigarette I’m smoking is phenomenal.

I don’t want to repeat this again tomorrow.


Nothing New.

I’m not sure if I want to be alone or with someone else right now.

Work was pretty decent. I finally got a credit (actually, I got two), which means I get to keep my job for the foreseeable future and I got ten bucks, which means I won’t feel guilty the next time I buy myself coffee.

This dude is texting me and he’s kind of drunk and he’s telling me I’m too tall for him. Shocker.

Speaking of height, I keep wearing my heels to work because they look the best and despite being 5’11” without heels, I enjoy being even taller.

I’m pet sitting at my neighbor’s house. Bob’s Burgers is on. I brought the last two beers with me but I kind of wanna drink more than that. I feel depressed and I shouldn’t, and again, I’m unsure if I should just sit here and be depressed (and I SHOULD work on this huge paper due Monday…) by myself or invite my friend over.

Anyway. I don’t know. Here’s a song by Johnny Cash I’ve been listening to on repeat.


My Drink of Choice is Anything Made with Vodka.

Drinking has served in my life as a fluctuating habit more so than a fun activity. Part of this stems from the fact that my friends don’t really drink; my best friend will have a glass of wine once in awhile. The other two do drink, but not really with me – they tend to drink at parties or with their boyfriends. So I’ve never really had anyone to drink with for fun, aside from my brother, but it’d be nice to have the option of drinking with friends. I mean, for centuries humans have been poisoning themselves for a few hours in the goal to feel “better”, and that feeling really can be evoked when you’re drinking alongside good friends.

I’ve had periods, periods that lasted way too long, in which I drank almost every night, and I drank alone. After a while of that, my drinking began to diminish as I realized how little fun I was having and how miserable it was making me. This took place throughout my first two years of college. There were some nights when I’d take my mother’s wine (and I hate wine, mind you) and drink the entire bottle by myself. I would do shots of vodka alone in my room. Thankfully, that all came to an end. I can remember one evening in the summer, the summer after I turned 20, drinking Malibu and Coke in the garage. It was too early to be drinking, I think.

My third year, I only got drunk once in a while. I didn’t even get drunk on my 21st birthday. It probably also helped that throughout most of the year I was unemployed. Instead of spending my summer binge drinking like I had in the past, I only drank when I could afford to drink, which was seldom.

With that being said, drinking still has a very tight grip on my psyche. When I get stressed or angry, I usually just want a cigarette. When I get depressed though, I need something more than a cigarette, and none of the things I have in mind are all that great for the body or mind. My drinking picked up toward the end of the summer – I was extremely depressed throughout much of it anyway, and as the date of starting at a new university came upon me, I felt even more depressed. Things were changing and I wasn’t ready. I would drink for a few nights in a row. I drank an entire bottle of, again, terrible wine, which didn’t even get me drunk.

Once classes started, I toned it down, since I obviously can’t drink that often if I’m working and going to school most of the time. But lately I’ve been getting drunk every week, usually on Fridays. And it’s not even fun. That’s the thing – it’s not even fun. Last weekend when I drank, I didn’t get drunk, and I was disappointed. Last night, I got pretty drunk, but who cares? My best friend was with me the whole time, but if she’s not drunk, I’m just there as the slurring idiot.

For years I’ve realized this about drinking: it’s not that fun, but it’s all I have.

Damn, I really miss pot.